


make no mistake of my love for you

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Malex Week 2020, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Why the hell did Michael let Alex goad him into what's, at best, a dangerous idea? Only, he knows why. It's because Alex is hot as hell and since when does Michael say no to blowjobs?
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 28
Kudos: 148





	make no mistake of my love for you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Crystal for the beta!
> 
> Malex Week - Day 5 - Smut Day

“This is such a bad idea,” Michael gasped, the wheels of the creeper nearly sliding out from under his back when he nearly lost his balance. “Fuck!” he yelped, reaching out to shove a hand against the tires of the truck he was under to prevent him from falling on his ass. 

He was supposed to be under the truck to take a look at the suspension for old Mr. McNally.

At least, that had been the plan. 

He hadn’t counted on having company. 

He definitely hadn’t counted on Alex showing up in a devilish mood after Michael had left him at home that morning unsatisfied (he was late for work and he didn’t want to push _all_ of Sanders’ buttons). He hadn’t expected Alex to ask, calmly, if Michael thought they could both fit on the creeper. And he really, really shouldn’t have commented on how tight a fit it would be under the truck, because Alex took that as a challenge. 

Trust Alex to look at Michael in his filthy white t-shirt, his battered Levi’s jeans, and grab him by the belt buckle to yank him in flush against his body.

“Are you telling me you don’t want to find out if we can both fit?”

That led to Alex pushing Michael on his back on the creeper before climbing on top of him, using the toes of his good leg to push them under the truck. Then, Alex wriggled down and managed to unzip Michael’s jeans with his teeth, eliciting a ridiculously noisy sound given the complete lack of any others in the empty junkyard.

That was when the wheels had slid out from under him, leading to Michael’s proclamation that this was a bad idea.

Alex lifted his head -- barely, given the lack of room -- but managed to catch Michael’s gaze, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Are you telling me you want me to stop?” 

Michael shook his head frantically. “Just wondering what got into you?”

“If you shut up, it’ll be you.”

Copy that. 

“I am shutting the fuck up,” Michael announced, grabbing hold of the truck to keep them in place as Alex pulled at the fabric of Michael’s jeans and boxer-briefs, yanking them down around his knees.

Alex dug his fingertips into Michael’s hips, sliding forward as those fingers pressed slight pricks of pain for the force of them. The sight of Alex’s ass elevated as he tried to get leverage was enough to quell any of Michael’s protests. He breathed out shakily as Alex began to press biting kisses to the meeting place of his thigh and hip, ticklish love bites that had Michael squirming, biting back his laughter.

“Lucky I know you’re ticklish,” Alex mumbled against Michael’s hot skin, “and not that you’re laughing at me.” 

Michael shook his head frantically to dissuade any idea that he found this _funny_ , because Alex was inching closer to his cock, but wasn’t getting there quickly enough. He shifted to get one hand on the undercarriage of the truck, burying the other in Alex’s hair. 

“Guerin.”

“What?” Michael whined, aware that literally shoving Alex’s head in the right direction was probably why he was getting that unimpressed tone. He relented, and let his fingers gently glide through Alex’s hair instead, the softness brushing past his fingertips as he let go. 

He closed his eyes as Alex sucked a red mark into the curve of his hip, something he knew he’d feel when he pulled his jeans on, at least for a few days. His jaw was hanging slack as Alex pressed a soft kiss to the finished mark, moving inches to the left to start on another. 

“Alex,” he whined, aware that begging wasn’t always attractive, but fuck, it wasn’t like he could help it. 

It was the wrong thing to do. It distracted Alex, who lifted his head. 

“No,” Michael groaned, aware that he sounded like a petulant child the way he drew out that vowel, but the cool air that hit Michael’s skin was the _opposite_ of what he wanted.

“Then stop distracting me.” 

Michael made a noise that vaguely resembled a man who had been cowed into behaving properly. Luckily, that did the trick for Alex, too, who went back to pressing a roadmap of little marks in the shape of his teeth across his skin, deepening them into elegant little purple bruises that Michael knew he’d be rubbing for days.

Forget handprints.

Humans had a damn thing going for claiming a person using hickeys.

Then, god, _finally_ then, Alex finally got to the main event. By now, Michael was achingly hard, leaking pre-come, and biting on his lip to prevent himself from babbling his way out of a blowjob. He had to behave, and more than that, he had to have some control. Otherwise, the creeper they were both precariously balanced on was going to go skittering out from under his ass, leaving him bruised in a whole other place.

Michael decided it was worth the risk to beg a little. 

“Please,” he gasped, when Alex’s warm breath slid over his hip, _near_ , but not near enough. “Fuck, please, let me fuck your mouth.”

Alex raised his brow, like he was considering it, but what he did next put any worrying to rest. Men who swallowed down their boyfriend’s cock the way Alex did weren’t about to leave them hanging. Ones that took them deep and them hummed were _so good_ , and Michael felt like he had permission.

“Yeah?” He needed more than the movement. 

Alex slid his way back to the head, curling his tongue in swaying, undulating motions as he drew off Michael with a slick _pop_ that was wetly obscene. “You have been a very good boy,” Alex mumbled, his voice already lower. “Don’t make me hit my head.”

As if connected to Alex’s voice, his hips rocked up like they were following orders. Finally, he was getting what he needed, _finally_ , but just as Alex’s lips were working down the length of him, Michael’s phone pinged with a notification.

“Ignore,” Alex mumbled from where his mouth was full of Michael’s cock. It would be so easy to do, but there was one problem with that. 

That wasn’t anyone’s text alert noise. It was Isobel’s, the same person who threatened to glue the phone to his hand so he’d finally respond when she texted him. The same woman who had been investigating something about their parents for him, and promised to text him when she had information.

Then Alex did something so wicked and utterly _incredible_ with his tongue and Michael nearly pushed them out from under the truck with his powers with his reaction. He grabbed at the truck again to brace himself in place. 

He did the smart thing.

He ignored the text, the next barrage of texts, and he also ignored the following call.

Then, Michael lost himself in the overwhelming sensation of warmth with every thrust of his hips that drove his cock into Alex’s mouth. He stared down at the way Alex took him with ease while his hands gripped the sides of the creeper, brushing against Michael’s thighs as he did. It was probably Alex’s help in keeping them stable that prevented them both from sliding out from under the protective umbrella of the truck above them. Alex shifted, at one point, and his cheek was fucking full of Michael’s cock from that angle, a visual that Michael wished he could get a photo of, but he settled for grabbing the truck with one hand, the other fixed in Alex’s hair to make sure he could control his thrusts.

“Alex,” he groaned, in awe at the way Alex was making this last for him.

Every time Michael felt he was on the brink, Alex seemed to know. He’d ease off and spend more time working his balls with the deft, slow, careful movements of his fingers, giving him the lightest of attention. Then, he’d go back to letting Michael fuck his mouth like he’d die without that wet warmth around him.

He lost track of time.

He also lost track of his surroundings, which was infinitely worse for his situation. 

“There you are!” came Isobel’s voice from nearby.

“Shit!” Michael hissed, because he wasn’t even close to done. His eyes frantically glanced down to Alex, who wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing down, and who had a look in his eyes that Michael recognized as one that meant that he wasn’t _planning_ on doing anything like it. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he hissed, and forced his body to get a hold of itself.

He dug fingers into the dusty ground beneath him and slowly dragged himself out so that only his head poked out from the truck to stare, upside-down, at Isobel.

“What are you, uh, what are you doing here?” he asked, hoping his face wasn’t contorted up in pleasure because Alex had resumed his work, taking Michael deep into his mouth.

Isobel stared at him like he’d gone insane. “I texted you ten times _and_ I called. I found a lead.”

He closed his eyes when Alex settled his lips over the head of Michael’s cock, firmly working that area alone with soft, teasing little brushes of his tongue, _knowing_ it wouldn’t be enough for Michael.

Instantly, he started to catalogue everything he might have done to Alex without realizing it in the past week. He had to have done something to earn this kind of torture. 

Somehow, _some way_ , he had to make himself sound normal, because if Isobel found out what they were doing, he was in the deepest shit possible, and he didn’t want to think about what mindfuckery she’d use on Alex in revenge.

“Right,” he said, gesturing to where his phone was sitting on top of the nearby table. “Been working on the truck all morning. Haven’t had a chance to look at my phone.”

She tipped her head to the side, gesturing to him with a disapproving wag of her finger. “You’re all red. I’ve told you a thousand times you need to start wearing a face moisturizer with more SPF.”

“You can’t Queer Eye me, Isobel,” Michael protested, and reached frantically for a tool to clang against the truck to mask the choked sound of pure pleasure from his throat when Alex sucked him down deep again. “Fuck,” he exhaled, hoping she’d interpret it as frustration and not what it actually was.

“I can do anything,” she countered, clearly distracted by the noise (or just not caring enough to think it was anything else).

He was going to come.

Oh, fuck, he was about to come with Alex’s mouth on him and Isobel standing a few feet away, and he didn’t think he could change this situation. 

“What’d you uh, what’d you find?” he prodded, hoping that if he got her talking, she might be fixated enough on the task at hand to pay attention to the fact that Michael was squirming on the creeper, hips rocking up and making the wheels under him move, making him bob in and out from under the truck. 

She took the bait. 

Even better, she buried her face in her phone to pull up some reference pictures and texts, giving Michael a very short window where he could come without her seeing his face (because if she did, he was pretty sure she would try and erase parts of his brain for it). 

He reached down and grabbed at Alex’s hair to hold him in place, choking on a moan that refused to be completely quelled, especially not with the greedy way Alex kept sucking, swallowing him down and looking so goddamn pretty while he did. Throat working, eyes closed, he looked like he was worshipping the very taste of him.

Isobel was rambling about something, but Michael didn’t have it in him to pay attention, letting his head fall back so his curls brushed against the ground. He closed his eyes and let himself have this one incredible moment as warmth flooded his body, toes curling up, and synapses firing in his brain that did little more than shoot pleasure through him. 

Michael breathlessly scrambled to get his jeans up, grateful that Isobel was distracted with some random piece of junk she’d found on top of a barrel when he finally opened his eyes to focus on her. “...so I figured we could drive up to the reservation again.”

“What, so you can go and see Greg?” 

Michael’s neck snapped to the side so fast, he felt like he might have whiplash, in awe at how quickly Alex had managed to crawl out from the truck, putting himself together to talk to her. Alex was stupid lucky he’d picked a subject that flustered Isobel, or she might have noticed the dusty sand stains on the knees of Alex’s jeans, or the absolutely telling just-fucked shiny swollen look of his lips. Even more incredible, Alex didn’t even have a hard-on.

Well, that was fucking insulting.

(Later, Alex would inform him that the threat of Isobel’s revenge had done the trick, accompanied by a few mental thoughts of Max awkwardly stripping.)

Michael glanced down at his own state, frantically rubbing a few spots on his jeans where his come had splattered in the process, hauling himself out from under the truck for the first time since this conversation began. Staggering to his feet, he found his knees were still wobbly, and that got Isobel’s attention. 

“Are you okay?” she asked suspiciously. 

He grabbed at the truck to hold on because that spaghetti-feeling in his legs had yet to go away, plus he figured he still had the slack-jawed look of an idiot who’d just come down his boyfriend’s throat on his face. 

“Yup,” said the genius. “Reservation. Hot Gregory Manes. Trip. Tomorrow?”

Her disgruntled look meant she knew something was up, but rather than give him grief for it, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I’ll send you a text with the time,” she said, her eyes flicking between Alex and Michael, like she was going to figure out what was off about them. She might have done it by Michael’s general state, but she never would from the easy way Alex leaned against a patio table, casual as anything.

Once Isobel had departed and her car was safely over the horizon, Michael turned on Alex, gaping at him with fond disbelief. 

“What?” Alex asked, but that smug smirk on his lips gave him away.

“Oh, right, _what_ ,” Michael mimicked him. “Fucking legend.” 

The delighted look on Alex’s face only grew. “Come inside the Airstream and reward me for it, then,” he suggested, sparing Michael one last brief look over his shoulder as he wandered inside, leaving the door open behind him. 

Michael had never received a better invitation than that.

“Coming, dear.”

“You already did,” Alex called from the bed. “It’s my turn.” 

Michael’s jelly-legs were long gone, replaced with an intensely stubborn desire to make sure Alex got at least one in return. He vaulted up the stairs, closing the Airstream door behind him, _so stupid_ glad that today hadn’t gone to plan.

This was so much better.


End file.
